


Nighttime Confessions

by andabatae



Series: One-Shots and Drabbles [2]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst and Feels, Ben Solo Cries During Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, House Flydam, Millennium Falcon Sex, Pep talks but naked, Sexy Star Wars, Vaginal Penetration, flying and crying and sex, irresponsible aviation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-07 16:48:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18877201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andabatae/pseuds/andabatae
Summary: Ben Solo wakes from nightmares of being Kylo Ren and heads to the cockpit of the Millennium Falcon to distract himself. Rey follows, determined to help him feel worthy and loved... no matter what it takes.





	Nighttime Confessions

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the lovely people in The Writing Den, who requested a fic with simultaneous flying, crying, and fucking.
> 
> Please note that this kind of multitasking isn't safe. Don't try this at home!

Ben Solo stared out at the glittering starfield, marveling anew at just how vast the universe was. It had been easy to forget during the war, even though his role as the galaxy’s premier tyrant had required him to spend a lot of time traveling from planet to planet. His focus hadn’t been on the stars then, though. He’d been obsessed with seizing and keeping power, making lists of his enemies and contemplating who had to die just so Kylo Ren could stay on top.  
  
He hadn’t stayed on top, of course. His grip on power had frayed with his sanity, until finally Hux had overthrown him. It had been bloody and near-fatal, and Kylo Ren had walked away from the wreckage with nothing.  
  
Ben Solo, though, had gained something impossibly precious that day.  
  
“Hey.” Rey’s soft voice came from behind him, and Ben looked over his shoulder, smiling at her sleep-tousled hair and bleary eyes. She was wearing one of his black shirts, although on her it looked more like a dress. She padded over to him on bare feet and climbed into his lap, straddling him and pressing a kiss to his lips.  
  
“I’m trying to fly here,” he informed her, but rather than moving her off his lap or initiating autopilot or anything logical like that, he leaned back in the seat and brought his hands to her waist, pulling her tight against him. He would never refuse an opportunity to touch her.  
  
She licked and nibbled at his mouth. “You can multitask.”  
  
Their smiles were mirrors of each other, expressed in the warm brush of skin and the brief clack of teeth. Then Ben angled his head and kissed her deeper, sliding his hands under the hem of the shirt to glide them over her bare ass and back. She was accustomed to his frequent and enthusiastic carnal attentions; she never wore underwear to bed anymore.  
  
“Mmm.” She pulled back to look down at him. “I woke up and you weren’t there.”  
  
He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I might as well take over for the autopilot.”  
  
He’d been dreaming about the war again. He dreamed about the war most nights, although the real terror of those dreams wasn’t the blood, pain, or violence. It was who he had been during those battles.  
  
In his dreams, Ben Solo became Kylo Ren again, and he hated it.  
  
Rey cupped his cheek in one soft palm. “Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
He shook his head, glancing over her shoulder at the stars to make sure he wasn’t inadvertently steering them into a moon. “It’s just more of the same.”  
  
“Just because it’s the same doesn’t mean you can’t keep talking about it.” Her soft chiding was as familiar as the feel of her smooth skin beneath his palms and her muscled thighs spread over his lap. “I’ll always listen.”  
  
She’d chided him less gently in those early days, when she’d abducted him, broken and bleeding, and then dragged him to Ahch-To to confront his demons. Ben had always considered himself stubborn, but he’d quickly realized he wasn’t in the same league as Rey. The woman had near-suicidal levels of tenacity, willpower, and aggression. Neither Kylo Ren nor Ben Solo had stood a chance.  
  
In exchange for his total surrender and the utter destruction and subsequent rebuilding of his identity, Rey had given him everything. Her heart, her loyalty, her body, her sweet, sunlight soul... Even now, after a year of assurances that this was where she truly wanted to be, Ben couldn’t quite believe it.  
  
He buried his face in her shoulder, feeling a familiar prickling at the corners of his eyes. Kriff, on nights like this he didn’t deserve her attention. She should close those sweet hazel eyes and dream of better things, rather than fixing them on the broken mess of a man she’d adopted as her own personal cause for insane and incomprehensible reasons.  
  
“Hey,” she said softly. Her hand slid into his hair, but although she tugged gently at the roots, he kept his face buried in her shoulder. “Ben, talk to me.”  
  
He shook his head, and then the tears welled and poured over, sliding down his cheeks and seeping into her shirt. She would feel the dampness of them, but he couldn’t stop, although he tried to keep his sobs silent and his shaking to a minimum. He was pathetic, a fractured facsimile of a man who could be brought to tears by a nightmare, even though he had once conquered a galaxy.  
  
That had been Kylo Ren, though, not Ben Solo. Ben Solo had never really conquered anything.  
  
Rey’s Force signature hummed brightly against his, a burst of light and warmth that seeped into him despite his grief. “Ben. Tell me what you’re thinking.”  
  
It was an order this time, and the tug on his hair was extremely firm, so Ben raised his head and wiped the moisture away from his eyes. “That I’m pathetic,” he admitted. “I dream about being Kylo Ren, and it’s awful, but then I wake up, and I’m… this.” He released her waist to gesture at himself with one hand.  
  
Her brows drew together. “What do you mean, this?”  
  
He sighed. “Afraid of my own mind. Disgusted by myself. Weak. In the daytime it’s not so bad, but at night every insecurity and fear comes roaring back. And I keep thinking about you, and how unfair it is for you to be stuck with me—”  
  
She pressed a finger to his lips. “Stop right there.” A familiar fire was in her eyes—it was the same look she’d cast him across a battlefield more than once. “I am lucky to be with you, Ben. You’re the strongest man I know.”  
  
He made a dismissive noise. “I was an insecure, angry kid who turned dark for the first person to show me any real attention. I’m only supposedly redeemed because of you—the second person to show me any real attention.”  
  
“Ben Solo.” His name was spoken in the hard tones of an admonishment. “Don’t you dare equate what you have with me to what happened with Snoke.”  
  
He winced. “No, that’s not what I meant—”  
  
She covered his mouth with her whole hand, leaning in and glaring at him until he stopped his feeble attempts at speech. “I know I said I’m always willing to listen, but that doesn’t mean blindly accepting every stupid thing you say.” She sighed. “You ridiculous, frustrating, stubborn, _wonderful_ man. I am wildly in love with you, you know that?”  
  
His eyes started watering again, and he nodded as much as he could with her hand still clapped firmly over his mouth.  
  
“I love your courage, your sharp mind, and your emotional honesty. Your intensity, too. You feel everything, and that’s a hard burden to bear sometimes, because it leads to nights like this. You castigate yourself for your sins more than most people ever would.” She lifted her hand from his mouth slowly, as if testing to see if he would interrupt. When he didn’t, she dipped down and kissed him again. “That makes you a good man, Ben. You aren’t willing to just let the past die—you never were, even though you thought otherwise. You keep trying to be better, day after day, and that makes you incredible—far more noble and courageous than you realize.”  
  
His cheeks burned, and his stomach swooped, and he both hated and loved hearing such validation pouring from her perfect lips. She was a tiny tyrant in his lap, reordering his universe with her words and passion, and he would gladly follow any order she gave him. Even though it was difficult, he could try to think better of himself for her.  
  
Her possessive claim over him, her dictatorial insistence on breaking him and making him anew, was how the light had gotten in in the first place, after all. And even though nights like this were hard, Ben desperately _wanted_ this life. It was more than he’d ever dared hope for.  
  
“Your intensity and honesty and courage also mean you’re capable of fierce, passionate love,” Rey continued. “You love me more than anyone else ever has or ever could, and do you know how astounding that is?” Her eyes were glimmering now, too. “I was thrown away like garbage, and even once I found a place to belong, the Resistance still saw me as a weapon. You didn’t. You see me for me, flaws and all, and you’ve accepted every piece of me. My life is so much richer for having you in it.”  
  
Oh, kriff, Ben was absolutely going to mortify himself tonight. He was crying openly now, fat tears trailing down his cheeks and dripping onto his shirt. Fuck, he loved this woman, who had the ability to pry his soul open but had only ever used that power to slip words of love inside. She could destroy him so easily, but she only ever wanted to build him up.  
  
Overwhelmed by desperate affection for her, he tugged at the hem of her shirt. She lifted her arms, cooperating as he stripped it off, and when she looked back at him again, a fond smile tilted her lips. “This, too,” she said as he ran possessive hands over her back and waist. “You’re so passionate. It all comes from the same well—the anger and grief and love and lust—and I love that you express yourself so physically. I love that you want to make me feel good, even when you’re hurting.”  
  
He latched onto one of her nipples, sucking until she writhed in his lap. He switched to the other one, pausing only long enough to speak. “Making you feel good lessens the hurt.”  
  
“I know,” she breathed as he nipped at the straining tip. “For me, too.”  
  
She was perfect. How had he ever found his incandescent, starlight lover? Her compassion wasn’t just rooted in her own genuine goodness; she spoke from painful life experience. She offered her flaws and fears to him, too, because while she could have demanded everything from him and given nothing, Rey wanted to give as much as she took.  
  
They belonged to each other. With each other. If there was any such thing as a universal truth, it was that.  
  
Ben kept laving her perfect tits as his hands settled on her hips. He encouraged her into a rocking motion, his cock already hard beneath his sleeping pants. Rey moaned and ground against him, then leaned forward to lick the tears off his cheeks.  
  
“I love you,” she whispered against his skin. “Force, I love you.”  
  
Ben groaned and jerked against her, and Rey let out a soft, needy sound that shot straight to his dick. Rey scrabbled at his shirt, stripping it off, and then she slammed her mouth against his as she rolled her hips over his erection. Her breasts pressed into his chest, and it was incredible, amazing, but Ben needed everything.  
  
“Kneel up,” he told her.  
  
Rey obeyed, kissing and sucking her way down his neck while he wrestled with his pants. He got them down to his ankles and decided that was good enough. He jerked her hips back down, kicking his head back when he felt her slick wetness against his cock. “Fuck, sweetheart.”  
  
“It doesn’t take much to make me wet for you, Ben,” she whispered against his neck as she rolled her hips decadently up and down his length. “I wish you were inside me all the time.”  
  
“That doesn’t seem—” Ben groaned at the wet slide of her against him— “practical.”  
  
“Fuck being practical,” Rey whispered, reaching between them to slot the tip of his cock against her drenched pussy. “Let’s be entirely unreasonable.” Then she slid down, taking him to the hilt in one smooth motion that had Ben swearing uncontrollably.  
  
“So tight,” he gasped as she seated herself on top of him. “How are you real?”  
  
She didn’t answer; instead, she lifted off him with a flex of her powerful thighs, then sank back down. Ben moaned, gripping her hips to help set her rhythm. She felt amazing, all that wet, hot flesh squeezing him so tightly. Rey’s pussy was one of the wonders of the galaxy. He would erect shrines to it if he could.  
  
“You’re amazing, Ben,” she said as she braced her hands against his shoulders to gain additional leverage. “Your _fucking_ body—Force, I practically drool every time I see you.”  
  
He grunted and nudged up into her. “Rey, you do realize you have the most exquisite figure the universe has ever known?”  
  
“My _figure_ , huh?” she teased, increasing the pace as she lifted off him and slammed back down. “What a gentleman you are, Ben Solo.”  
  
He grinned up at her, feeling a welcome burst of wolfish aggression at her challenge. “You have the prettiest pussy in the galaxy, Rey. Is that what you want to hear?” She moaned, but he didn’t need that confirmation to know that this sort of dirty talk was exactly what she liked. A year of fucking had given him a great deal of insight into her preferences. “Your cunt is the altar I worship at. I would eat you out every moment of every day, but then I wouldn’t be able to fuck you as deep and hard as you need.”  
  
Rey shivered, and her rhythm faltered. Ben knew the signs by now, so he wrapped one arm around her and applied the thumb of his free hand to her clitoris. “There you go, sweetheart,” he said. “Show me how that sweet cunt comes.”  
  
She jerked against him, but she wasn’t quite there yet, so he kept applying steady pressure to her clit as he bucked up into her. Kriff, how was she real? He’d asked himself this twice in the last five minutes, and he asked it at least a dozen times every day. She owned him, absolutely wrecked him, but for some reason, she liked to hear him talk like this in the bedroom—or cockpit, as the case might be.  
  
Ben would talk however she wanted. He would do whatever she wanted. He was lost to her, her willing slave, the penitent before her altar. And yes, the altar was her cunt, but it was also _her_. Beautiful, fierce, wild, compassionate, strong, sexy, _incredible_ …  
  
“You’re everything,” he told her as he thrust up into her, savoring the sight of her rosy cheeks and half-closed eyes as she seized the pleasure he offered. “You’re the only thing.”  
  
Rey stiffened and gasped, and then her pussy pulsed around Ben with the fast, rhythmic spasms that signaled her orgasm. Ben wrapped his arms around her and bucked up into her, loving the sloppy sounds of him plundering her wet pussy. She was perfect and wet and _wonderful_ —  
  
He orgasmed with a shout, thrusting up into her as his cum pumped out of him on sweet, almost-agonizing waves. The orgasm rocketed through him from his toes to his head, blowing his sanity away as he spasmed and emptied himself into her.  
  
They came down on rasping breaths and messy kisses, melting into each other like their bones had ceased to exist. Rey nibbled towards his ear before whispering words of love and benediction.  
  
“I’m not the only thing, because there’s no such thing as me without you. I love you, Ben. Whether or not you feel strong, whether or not anyone else understands—it doesn’t matter. You’re like my heartbeat.”  
  
Ben had stopped crying sometime during this erotic encounter, but now he thought he might start again. He gripped her face, pulling her lips back to his. “You’re mine, too,” he said in-between desperate kisses. “Thank you for seeing me. Thank you for fighting for me.”  
  
“I’ll always fight for you,” she vowed. “Even if the enemy is yourself. You’re mine, Ben, and that’s never going to change.”  
  
When Ben eventually looked back out at the stars, he didn’t see condemnation for his past failures—he saw possibility.


End file.
